


Beyond Darkness

by schrijverr



Category: Original Work
Genre: Darkness, Gen, Horror, be aware, btw i would classify this as comfort horror, but i think it's funky, it's really not that tagable, so pls give it a chance, unreality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:36:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28902753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schrijverr/pseuds/schrijverr
Summary: Someone talks about the noises in the dark, what is behind them and what they know.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	Beyond Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find this work on my tumblr, which is @schrijverr as well. Hope you pop in and say hi, cause I'd love to talk to y'all!

Darkness isn’t silent.

They always try to tell you that, the hush of nightfall, the quiet in the middle of the night, but that’s just no true. The night creaks and groans.

The world is full of noise and that is only highlighted by the lack of light that puts the senses on alert. It could be just the bushes or the trees, but you cannot assign sound to things you cannot see and the mind assigns the sounds to the darkness.

Maybe it’s to cope.

Maybe it is safer to think that those noises are something that cannot touch reality, something beyond that only brushes into this world without disturbing it with more than ripples of noise.

On some level people would love to think it’s just the darkness that makes the noise.

Yes, I know I just told you the darkness isn’t silent and now I’m explaining to you why it isn’t the darkness at all that makes the sounds. 

However, it is the darkness that provides the cover for the beings that make the noise. During the day, in the light, nothing eldritch would dare to move, dare to show its face, but now, when there is no one to see only to hear, now they dare.

You might say I’m overreacting by assigning the peaceful creaks of a forest to an eldritch being, but I can assure you that I am not. I know what hides in those scuttles, I have seen.

They hide. 

They hide in the corners, they hide in the shadows, they hide in the sounds of others and they shift to be unseen in the black of the night.

But if you’d just perk your ears you can hear how unnatural the world sounds when walking alone at night.

It begins small, you start to wonder if there was always a noise when a leaf hits the ground, if that rustling of the bushes could really happen without footsteps or wind, if there usually was that reverberation in a birds call, or if a forest animal could really snap off a branch that heavy or that high.

The answer is no, that if cannot happen. You feel in your bones that the noises that feel so familiar are a warped imitation of what it’s supposed to sound like.

Once you realize, it chills you to the bone and makes your blood run cold. You freeze. It is ironic that we call it that, since the adrenaline makes your blood pump and your body never been warmer in your life, but alas.

The same is happening again, I am alone in the forest and I hear the creaks and groans. I can feel things move and my heart starts to beat.

Darkness isn’t silent.

It never is and in my experience it never has. If you think otherwise, then I request you think back. Was it really that quiet? Did you really not hear your own footsteps or the floorboards creaking under your weight or the house as it settled?

No, the darkness isn’t silent at all.

Which is why I am quite surprised when the world suddenly falls deathly quiet. The bird that has never been there stops calling, the scuttling ceases and the wind dies down to nothing.

It is as if all the life has been sucked out of the air.

I realize I’m all alone and the world crashes down on me. I look into the darkness, that silent darkness, and know nothing is watching me. There is no shadow that will follow me home, no glowing eyes that dim the moment I spot them, there’s not even a bush that rattles when I pass.

There is absolutely nothing.

For anyone else with the knowledge I have this would be the greatest thing to happen to them. With no reason the things that loom, the things that creep have vanished.

But I am not anyone else. What I am, is alone. 

I am aware that I framed myself as one of you, but think back. In all my descriptions of fear and unease, did I use I or you? When I talked about how I heard, did I state that my heart started to beat faster or just beat?

This is exactly what I talked about, a poor imitation of your reality. That is me and that is everyone behind the sounds in the darkness that I know. And now that is gone.

Darkness is silent.

I suddenly understand the hush of the night that the people, who have never brushed along the things they cannot see, talk about. I do not know how they can stand this utter silence, the lack of noise that highlights their own loneliness.

Before this moment I did not know fear, I laughed at those who feared what they couldn’t see and the noises they couldn’t explain. The rustling was nothing more than someone walking home and the bird call were two stupid kids playing their version of Marco Polo.

For me those sounds are home. I walk these routes and I am part of the noises beyond the dark. And now that is gone and I am on my own in an unfamiliar world.

Darkness is silent and I know fear.

**Author's Note:**

> I thought out why the I person was left alone, so if you wanna know shoot me a comment and I shall hold my mini-rant XP
> 
> Comment make my absolute day, especially on an original work, so please leave them and I shall be forever grateful! <3


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